


hearth

by lacksley



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Bickering, Cuddling, Dreams, F/M, Going Home, M/M, Multi, Sleeping Together, Travel, Yuletide, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacksley/pseuds/lacksley
Summary: hearthn.—home, fireside
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades, Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	hearth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluspirits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluspirits/gifts).

The warmth at his back is something Trevor isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to. Sypha, pressed against him, lightly snoring. The feeling of  _ safety _ on waking.

It’s just before dawn, that in-between time of morning and night where the sky lightens from deep blue into soft gray, outlining the horizon. He can see through the tear in the wagon cover, the one that he keeps mending only for it to be split open by the wind, or a creature of the night, or his own drunken self. The bare tree branches frame the lightening sky like stained glass and Trevor isn’t sure if the sight is beautiful or concerning.

A guttural moan tears through the early morning silence, and Sypha rolls over.

“Good morning, you beast.” He leans down to press a kiss against her forehead. She moans again, weakly headbutting Trevor’s chest.

“You don’t have the right to say that to me when you look like that.” Sypha tugs at his beard and Trevor swats her hand away. She shivers and sits up, pulling the blankets even closer as she looks through their accidental window. “You ripped the canvas again.”

“No I didn’t,” Trevor says.

“Yes you  _ did! _ Your sewing skills are atrocious!” Sypha pinches at the tear, pulling away the loose threads that were once barely holding it together. The canvas further unravels and she throws her hands up. “Now I’m just making it worse. This is all your fault.”

Sypha disentangles herself from the blankets and slides out of the wagon, cursing at the cold, to check on the oxen. Trevor sticks his head through the tear to frown at her.

“Hang on, how is it my fault when some big ugly beast decides to sharpen its claws on our wagon?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Because it’s fun to tease you, and I like watching you struggle to thread a needle.” Sypha pats his cheek and smiles. “Let’s get moving.”

They’ve been slowly making their way across the country for almost two weeks now, struggling through broken wagon wheels, demonic hordes, and one particularly memorable incident involving a bear. The chill of winter has delayed their progress so much that Trevor worries they won’t make it before the snow falls.

“We’ve been away too long. He’s not going to be there when we get back.”

They’ve stopped to make camp for the night, the flickering fire reflected in Trevor’s eyes. Sypha watches him across the flames, half-paying attention to her whittling.

“What makes this time different from any other time we’ve been away? You can’t think he’s upset with us. It’s his choice to stay, it always has been.”

Trevor doesn’t meet her eyes. He pulls his cloak closer to himself, retreating into the fur. “It’s just a feeling, forget it.”

“Trevor Belmont, you are a terrible liar and I will not let you sit there and mope. Come over here.” Sypha pats the ground to her side. Trevor crawls around the fire and presses his face into her knees. “We can stay as long as you like this time, okay?”

Running her fingers through his hair, Trevor falls asleep with the warmth of the fire at his back.

Despite the newly-stationary nature of Dracula’s castle, Sypha swears it’s always an uphill climb, whether coming or going. A small cloud of snowflakes blown down the mountain greets them as they begin to ascend, Trevor and Sypha both walking beside the wagon to spare the oxen some burden.

The sun is beginning to set behind the horizon, made much taller by the craggy mountain peaks jutting into the sky.

“Do you want to stop? It’s going to be dark soon.” Sypha conjures a small flame in the palm of her hand, casting long shadows on the road ahead of them. Trevor examines the sky, streaks of orange and pink contrasting with the cold gray of the rocks and dead trees.

“Yeah,” he sighs, kicking at the frozen dirt. They set up camp, old habit now, tying the oxen to a tree and chocking the wagon wheels.

Snow begins to falls before they can light a fire, and they retreat to the wagon, falling asleep huddled together beneath the blankets and furs.

Trevor dreams of wolves.

Distant howls sounding in the woods, heavy breathing and the stench of blood, cries of small animals, glowing eyes watching him sleep, prowling, circling the wagon.

Guarding the wagon, watching, protecting him in his sleep, cries of a small child, soothing whispers and the smell of home, distant howls far away in the woods. Trevor is safe and warm. He is  _ home. _

The smell is the first thing Trevor notices on waking. Old sheets, rust, and ice. He’s in bed, in  _ a _ bed, somewhere, with a firm pillow, cool to the touch, and someone’s fingers carding through his hair. Opening his eyes, Trevor sees the sun smiling down at him, and promptly rolls over.

“Not happy to see me?” Alucard asks.

“Too bright,” Trevor groans, pressing his face further into Alucard’s leg. That earns him a soft chuckle, and Sypha wakes with a snort at the movement.

“Mm… good morning,” Sypha says, stretching to wrap her arms around Alucard’s waist. He takes her hand and presses a kiss to it. “How did you know we were close by?”

“I could smell Belmont from the base of the mountain. It wasn’t difficult to find you.”

“Funny, I thought I smelled a mangy dog last night.”

Alucard delivers a swift elbow to Trevor’s side, and Trevor retaliates by pinching his thigh. Sypha crawls over top both of them to stop the fighting.

“Can’t my boys play nicely? For me?” she sighs, hands reaching for both and giving their hair a sharp tug. “I seem to remember someone feeling very blue about being gone for so long.”

“You can’t prove anything,” Trevor groans, voice muffled under all the weight on top of him.

“... is that true?” Alucard asks, pushing Sypha to the side to pull Trevor to the surface. His cheeks are flushed, and avoids Alucard’s gaze.

“We’re going to be staying until he gets sick of you,” Sypha says. Alucard smiles.

“Well then,” and he leans over to press a chaste kiss to Trevor’s lips, “... welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! I hope you like it :)


End file.
